The Monday Deadline
by Leraika
Summary: Pepper Potts needs a housekeeper/manager to keep the newly-dubbed 'Avengers Tower' safe from its own inhabitants, while she gets on being a CEO. But unbeknownst to all, the newest employee is hiding extraordinary secrets... [Full warnings inside, rated 'T' for bad language and later chapters.]
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This jumped spontaneously into my head a few days ago while watching the first Iron Man. The precise thought that went through my mind was: "Well that's horrific damage, but I'd **_**really**_** hate to be the Avengers' housekeeper…" Let's face it; they tend to trash wherever they're staying (to say nothing of others' efforts… Loki, I'm looking at you).**

**And then my warped mind immediately thought: "What would happen if the housekeeper of the Avengers' Tower wasn't normal?" Because who is **_**normal **_**in these films?  
****My thoughts exactly. In regards to the 'Supernatural' genre, it is in line with Thor/Avengers understanding of the science-magic relationship… with added spice and surprise.**

**Disclaimers: ****I do not own any recognisable canonical characters. Any OCs are entirely my own unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without my express permission. **

**Warnings:  
****This is my first Marvel fic. Any errors are entirely my own. ****  
****This is not going to be canonical. Partly to accommodate my OC, who will not be an 'extra-Avenger'/superhero. Ever. Promise.  
Also, there will be violence and regular but moderate swearing (including f-bombs, so skim-read or turn away now if you don't like it). Specific warnings will be given at the beginning of chapters if the need arises. **

* * *

Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, CEO of Stark Industries was _supposed _to be Anthony Stark's (not-so-secret) girlfriend.

And yet she found herself trawling through CVs, trying to preserve her sanity and the Tower from the endless antics of the Avengers. She didn't have the time to oversee the day-to-day workings of Stark Tower, handle the press and keep the politicians, intelligence agencies, scientists, engineers and energy companies at bay while the Avengers attempted to keep a collective low profile.

It had been an impossible request – despite it coming from Fury, the Council and Pepper herself.

* * *

Over 3000 miles away, in another sleepless metropolis, a phone rang in the darkness of a modern studio flat. If the owner's personality was reflected in the apartment, there was very little sign of it. Almost everything was a shade of pale grey or blue on a predominant canvas of white. All the appliances, fittings and furniture were modern – it was a sterile place. Like a hotel there was nothing that expressed the nature of its occupant.

At a circular dining table, a lean figure was hunched over a laptop, a spread of papers and coffee mugs surrounding them. On the third round of ringing, the owner answered the persistent caller, hitting the speaker button with an emphatic stab of a long thin finger.

"This had better be really bloody important."

"_Ah, you are there! You weren't answering." _

"I returned from Japan two hours ago and this report isn't going to write itself. What do you want?"

"_Well, as you know we've been monitoring our clients and it has been many, many years since we've had such an opening in the munitions sector in the United States—" _

Grey-green eyes glared at the phone. "That is such a blatant lie. I am jet-lagged, not stupid."

"_Touchy… alright, there's a vacancy in Stark Industries, and we thought you'd be just perfect for the position." _

"Why can't this wait until next week?" the owner of the flat murmured, leaning back in the chair with a long sigh as they stretched. Joints popped loudly in the silence.

"_Because we need you to pack your toothbrush and come into the office now; they're holding interviews next week and we need to work on your cover and paperwork." _

"Fuck… it's Friday, isn't it?"

"_Don't swear doll-face, it doesn't suit that cute little mouth. See you in half an hour! You can buy a new wardrobe in New York on the company card – won't that be nice?" _

"Whatever."

* * *

"… And you're sure that I will pass inspection?"

"_The paperwork is a certainty. The interview will be down to you and that infamous 'charm' of yours. Simmons wants me to relay that you must not tell the truth, or even part of the truth. Do not sound cynical, act your supposed age and don't do that really creepy thing with your eyes." _

A soft chuckle. "Very well."

* * *

The hotel had occasionally played host to professionals who would appear with only a small briefcase, pay for a month's stay with a company card. There was nothing extraordinary about the occupant of Room 404. The room was neat, and there were no complaints from room service or housekeeping. If anyone had asked, they would have said that Room 404 held a perfect guest and utterly unremarkable person.

They would have been absolutely right. And also very wrong.

* * *

"_Why haven't you submitted your application?! You __must__ get into Stark employment! And stop buying things from Chanel!"_

"Please try to calm down. Let me know when the second wave of applications start going in. They will be widening their search. I take it you _are_ monitoring the communications?"

A sigh down the line, sounding like the hiss of static over the transatlantic call.

"_Give us some credit. We won't stop watching you until we know you've got the job. We expect secure e-mail reports every four months." _

"PDF format as usual?"

"_We would appreciate it." _

* * *

The second round of interviews and CVs were as depressing as the first. Amazingly it was Tony, who happened to be entering the kitchen for more food, who grabbed a file at random and began to read the qualifications of one 'Miss E. Monday'.

"Well she seems good. Talk to her." He said with a smirk, tossing the file back onto the coffee table. "Honestly, I don't know why you think this is so hard."

Pepper, who hadn't yet read the file, waited until Tony was far away before relenting and picking up the résumé. And Miss Monday did indeed look like a promising young woman:

After graduating from Cambridge with a double-first in Classics, she then utterly disappeared into the senior management of a highly respected company named Gambrel & Quinn Ltd. She had no dependants and was a certified chef from the Ballymaloe Cookery School.

Pepper resolved to call Miss Monday in for an interview, and at least get the measure of this intriguing individual.

* * *

Elise Monday sat perfectly straight on the steel bench outside Pepper Potts' office, across the room from the CEO's secretary. There was no conversation. Monday gave the impression of being in complete harmony with her surroundings, while the other woman shifted nervously at how preternaturally still and unblinking the visitor was.

Pepper emerged, saying her farewells to the previous applicant; once the elevator doors closed, Pepper turned to look at the final interviewee of the day:

The double-breasted trouser suit was a narrow, navy blue silk and wool blend, with a subtle crimson stripe running through it. The hair was a sleek black bob and the only sign of self-expression was the bright turquoise ostrich-skin bag. The soft-soled suede pumps were pressed together and pale eyes were staring up into hers with an utterly neutral expression from under a blunt fringe. The woman stood, a long, thin hand was extended and offered a firm, abrupt handshake. Her skin was pale and utterly smooth.

Pepper felt a frisson of some unknown emotion run through her as that even gaze stared up into hers. Elise Monday would probably be taller than Pepper if she wore heels, but only just.

"Elise Monday?" she said, taking the cool dry hand.

"Yes Miss Potts." The crystal English accent sounding slightly alien, despite Pepper's constant exposure to JARVIS.

"Please come in."

They settled themselves in the two chairs, and Pepper picked up a condensed version of the CV.

"Your résumé is certainly impressive," she said calmly. "Would you mind telling me about the exact position you held in Gambrel & Quinn?"

The young woman didn't so much as blink. "I was a manager of several teams. We specialised in research and consultancy."

"You were a consultant?"

At that word, Miss Monday actually smiled, and Pepper realised that under the crafted mask, she was actually remarkably young; probably not even thirty. "Indeed. And on occasion I would be outsourced for long-term projects. In fact, my final placement was to Japan for a few months – very interesting place. Have you been?"

"Only to Tokyo," Pepper said.

"A pity, I can highly recommend Hokkaido." The smile was back – small, charming and slightly shy.

"I will bear that in mind," Pepper said pointedly returning her attention to the file. "Your employers cannot speak highly enough of your work ethic and practical skills; I've rarely seen such glowing references."

"They are very kind," Monday inclined her head slightly.

"We need someone who is able to commit to the Tower year round. It requires great personal discipline and integrity, as well as extreme dedication."

"I understand."

"What if I were to offer you one of the residential flats in the tower itself?"

If Elise Monday was disconcerted or surprised by this sudden offer, it didn't show. "I would have to start considering what furniture to buy." She said, straight-faced.

"Oh. That's good." Pepper said faintly. Was this some sort of trick? Was Elise Monday really a paid actor, hired by her boyfriend in a fit of deranged boredom, and sent to taunt her? JARVIS and Tony would have been able to construct a watertight identity that would leave even SHIELD convinced.

It was only when Monday began to look expectant that Pepper realised that she had lost focus.

"Alright… what about overtime?"

"If I am living in the Tower then I do not see how the concept applies. To a certain extent, I will not be able to leave my post."

"And your rates?"

"Reasonable, considering my skill set."

Pepper nodded and wondered what the going rate was for superhero nannies. Then she stood, Monday following suit, and they shook hands. "Thank you so much for coming in. I'll be in contact with you soon."

"No, Miss Potts. Thank _you _for seeing me."

* * *

**So, what do you think?  
I will only write and post more after sufficient feedback.  
Thanks for reading! **

**~ L. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello!  
*peers around curiously* Who's even reading this? (Except 'Camierose'. You're safe. Loki won't tie your shoelaces together.)**

**Anyway, I shan't be deterred. I like this story. But I feel I'm going to have to quote some source material at you all now... **

_**Tony Stark: "Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one." **_

**Just saying... **

**Disclaimers: Not mine. Never will be, either. **

**Warnings: Mild language. PG-13 at the most. **

* * *

Monday went back to Room 404 and packed her clothes. The message from the Potts woman had come through, announcing her second round of interviews. This time, she would be privileged enough to meet members of SHIELD (which she wasn't supposed to know about), and maybe even an Avenger or two. The name struck her as particularly nonsensical; after all, if the premiere US response team were only good at _reacting_ to atrocities, rather than preventing them, it didn't bode well for the public. And since everyone knew what more mainstream US military retaliation entailed, it wasn't hard to see where this was going. Of course, she had been on the other side of the world when the attack on Manhattan was launched and then summarily dealt with in the space of only a couple of hours. Which in itself was extraordinary. Although perhaps less so, considering that they were not even trying to hide their activities from the public – impossible as that would have been.

But she had always hidden. Her whole life had been one of secrecy and carefully crafted illusions. Elise Monday didn't exist beyond some completely watertight documentation and a haircut. She also wondered about the reactions she might receive from the Avengers. After all, she was an unknown quantity – cleared by SHIELD's background check, but would her personality (or lack thereof) gel with these lofty temperaments? Would they care? She was primarily in the role of manager – something like a PA crossed with a butler and the blood-thirstiest kind of lawyer.

It didn't matter though. Not really.

She had sanction from Virginia Potts, and the Tower (with its volatile occupants) would be under her management soon enough. Not that she had any authority over them, but that was beside the point and she had little interest in such a stupid notion. She was there to observe… this was an intelligence assignment. This was _not_ like California; after that debacle, she would not have returned to this continent if her superiors had held a gun to her head. Unfortunately, the situation wasn't so easily solved.

Her one consolation was that this was not like the Iceland or Jordan assignments. This was simple: watch and record.

* * *

"I'm sorry, you want me to do _what?"_ Tony Stark said, his voice deceptively mild as Pepper looked at him unwaveringly. It was all the warning she would get before he descended into withering sarcasm that he wouldn't hesitate to turn on her.

But Pepper knew that, and she also knew how to win against his stubbornness. "I want you to be there – this is important." She repeated. "It is still your building; you should probably take a look at the person who's going to be managing it."

"I've never been made to do this before!"

"Well don't worry, it's not complicated. Just get the measure of her," she said evenly. Tony looked despondent, but he wasn't arguing anymore, so Pepper was fairly confident that she had won her boyfriend's co-operation.

* * *

"So, you like America?"

"Very much so, Mr Stark. I am looking forward to seeing more of this city in particular."

"What makes you think you'll be staying much longer?" Tony pushed, sounding all too serious. His expression was very grave.

Monday, however, did not seem in the least intimidated. "Why, is something wrong? Have I offended you in any way?" she was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, and looking at Stark with something approaching mild disapproval.

Tony, looking slightly amused now that Monday was confronting him, leaned back. "Not at all – I'm just astonished at your confidence."

Pepper resisted the urge to wring her hands under the table. This was a hugely stilted and tense interview. The fact that Clint Barton was sitting at the far end of the table, staring out of the window in an overt show of boredom was not helping.

But Monday was either impervious to the mood, or just as brilliant at hiding her frustration as Pepper was. "I am most gratified to have astonished you, Mr Stark." She said softly, looking down at her folded hands demurely. But the hint of amusement in her eyes was echoed in Tony's dark ones. With an internal sigh of relief, Pepper knew that no matter where the interview went, Monday had achieved the first part of the Stark Seal of Approval. It really ought to be trademarked.

Clint looked up and regarded Monday steadily with his usual passive expression. In fact, Tony was probably the only animated person in the whole room. "What are your views on immigrants?" he asked, looking straight at Monday.

The woman opened her eyes wide with an innocent surprise. "I believe that if they sincerely wish to contribute to the state, then there shouldn't be a problem. Has this anything to do with my application for a Green Card?"

Tony suppressed a snort of amusement and Pepper took over. "Your application will be fast-tracked through the system, since you will be working for a governmental consultant."

"That is very reassuring."

* * *

Monday had passed the interviews and now she was on probation for a full eight weeks. As she unpacked her suitcases in the flat, she sent a very short text to her contact (who was masquerading as a friend and 'ex-colleague').

'_I got the job! I'll send a pic of my awesomely huge flat soon! E. Xx'_

If SHIELD did intercept that somehow, then there would be nothing suspicious about it. She was particularly proud of 'Xx'. It made her look very modern and sentimental.

Suddenly, a cultured British accent broke through her self-congratulatory thoughts. "_Good morning Miss Monday." _

She straightened and stared up at the tiny sensor in the centre of the ceiling. "Are you my disembodied colleague JARVIS?" she asked.

"_Indeed, Miss Monday. Is there anything I can help you with?" _

Monday shook her head. "I am well, thank you," she finished her unpacking and placed her now-empty bags under the bed. "But perhaps I ought to take a tour of the Tower so that everyone will know who I am."

"_An eminently sensible idea—will you require my assistance in any way?" _

"I may require directions, but otherwise, I should be fine." Monday replied equably. She donned her blazer once more and took the elevator down to the ground floor. She went straight to the front desk, introduced herself and then asked to see the manager. The man appeared almost instantly.

"How may I help you ma'am?" he said obsequiously, despite being at least forty. Monday turned and let her expression soften, even though she didn't smile.

"We only call the queen 'ma'am' in Britain, Mr…?" she trailed off questioningly.

"Oh! I'm Peter, Peter Donnelly. Pleasure to meet you," the man proffered a hand which Monday shook once and then tucked her hands behind her back, removing the possibility of further contact.

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure. I am Elise Monday, Miss Potts hired me as probationary manager of the Avengers Levels. May I be taken on a tour of the entire facility please?"

Donnelly's expression froze and then broke into an even more ingratiating smile. Clearly Monday was going to be the most senior employee in the building. "Of course! Right this way…" he ushered her to the elevators. Donnelly pressed the button to the first floor and immediately began rattling off statistics for the building's proportions, the arc reactor that powered it, and the general use of the building. Monday knew all this already, but feigned interest as the doors slid open soundlessly and they stepped out into what was clearly a bustling office space. All the men and women kept on hurrying about, chattering constantly and clearly working hard.

"The next twenty floors are the same," Donnelly said, gesturing about to the empty space. "These floors are for employees of Stark Enterprises; mostly the legal, financial, marketing and public relation departments."

Monday didn't move further into the room, she could see all she needed to. "And now that the building has been commandeered by the Avengers?" she asked.

"Well, we're not sure. No one has really spoken to us about it, since the decision was only made recently."

"Were these departments located elsewhere before the tower's completion?"

Donnelly shot her a questioning look, as if she should have known. "Yes, in Los Angeles."

"Right. I will see that you and all departments are transferred back there."

"What?!" Donnelly sounded alarmed by the announcement.

Monday turned and led Donnelly back into the lift, pressing the button for the twenty-second floor as she did so. As soon as the doors slid shut, she fixed Donnelly with a very serious expression. "This is now the site of operations for the premiere independent response team of the United States. They have an extremely high public profile. Everyone knows where they are based and they've been making enemies of some seriously unpleasant individuals." She stepped a little closer and her voice dropped to an intense whisper. "So when the tower is inevitably attacked again, could you be the one to justify the potentially immense collateral damage of civilian life to the government, public and press?"

Donnelly swallowed audibly.

The point seemingly made to Monday's satisfaction, she looked away after another long beat and when the doors opened she stepped forth without so much as a word. Donnelly followed obediently.

"The next thirty-five floors are also unspecified. They were scheduled to be occupied by Stark subsidiaries and non-profit organisations." Donnelly said.

Monday nodded. "It would be a shame to waste all this space. But I must speak with Mr Stark before they can settle in fully. The same rules of safety apply for all civilian personnel."

Donnelly nodded and they then ascended to the Research and Development floors. These could only be described as Anthony Stark's playground. Slowly, inexorably, he was drawing the best minds in the business to his employ, either as full-time employees or as consultants. Monday may not have recognised the men and women she surveyed, but she knew that unless they were leaders in their field, they would not be standing there.

"What sort of projects are currently being run in this facility?"

"I don't know,"

"Well find out."

Donnelly cringed and nodded meekly.

And so the tour went on in this fashion, with Monday asking penetrating questions and Donnelly mumbling unsatisfactory answers. Finally they reached the residential levels of the tower and Monday turned back to Donnelly.

"Well, I think I will conduct the rest of the tour with JARVIS; so thank you, you have been most helpful." She said with a polite smile that did not reach her eyes and they shook hands once more. Donnelly nodded and fled back into the elevator with Monday watching him go. Then she turned glanced at her watch.

"JARVIS?" she asked.

"_Yes Miss Monday?" _

"You were listening to my conversations with Mr Donnelly, yes?"

"_Yes Miss Monday." _

"Good. Please send the audio files to my Stark-ware desktop. And also, I would like you to conduct the rest of the tour, if you please."

On the residential floors Monday didn't bother prying into each room, but simply ascertained who lived in which apartment before moving upwards. Inexorably, she was heading for Stark's residence, spanning the final three floors and boasting more luxury than most five star hotels in the area.

JARVIS announced her arrival for the sake of a cleaner who was scrubbing the kitchen units. The woman paused and greeted Monday, who smiled kindly and after the necessary introductions, offered her assistance. The woman (whose name was Margaret Brown) was so shocked by this that she stood stunned for a good few seconds before stammering her gratitude and declining.

"But Miss Brown…" Monday began.

"Maggie, please."

Monday hesitated, as if this contradicted an inner urge for formality. But she relented. "Maggie, then. I have no other commitments for the day—." She managed a slight smile.

"It is not…" Maggie struggled for the correct word. "Appropriate." She said, desperately.

Monday ignored this justification and glanced up at JARVIS's sensor. "JARVIS, what is Mr Stark's schedule for today?"

"_After a press conference at 1500 hours, Mr Stark is due to attend a meeting here with a liaison officer from SHIELD. Barring the usual causes for disruption, he should return to the Tower at approximately 1630 hours." _JARVIS intoned calmly. _"He expects a top-quality dinner for five to be ready by 2030 hours in order to…" _uncharacteristically, the AI paused.

Monday raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"_I believe Mr Stark wishes to challenge you. His exact words were: 'Let's see what she's made of'." _Were it possible, JARVIS sounded slightly curious, as if he too wanted to see Monday's reaction. The new overseer of Stark Tower glanced at her watch and made a series of swift mental calculations. "Maggie," she said slowly. "How would you like to help me prepare for Mr Stark's return?"

The young woman squeaked, a look of utter panic crossing her features. "I-I couldn't! Really, it's so much better if I just go."

"Nonsense," Monday removed her jacket and started rolling up her shirtsleeves. "Do you know what sort of food Mr Stark usually eats?"

"Um… well I usually find…" Maggie considered it carefully, wondering how to say it without offending Monday. The woman was her boss and word had already got around that she had been trained as a chef. Well what harm could it do? Monday was sure to find out sooner or later. "A lot of takeaway, really." She said, shrugging.

Monday's eyes narrowed, but otherwise she didn't react to the news. Or the casual gesture. "JARVIS," she said, pulling out her phone. "Could you please send me a complete list of the meals which Mr Stark has eaten over the past year and collate it into a graph, in order of preference rather than regularity? And also a list of the restaurants and diners he frequents, also in order of preference?"

"_Certainly, Miss Monday." _

Three seconds later, Monday's phone beeped and she took a moment to read the necessary information. "Risible," she said, her face still that calm mask of professionalism. The only evidence of a sneer was the slight drawl in her voice.

"Um…" Maggie wasn't sure what to do.

"Not to worry Maggie, I shan't keep you. What time do you finish work?"

"About four."

Monday looked at her closely and then nodded. "If you ever wish to bring your daughter to work on weekends, she is very welcome."

Maggie blanched. "How do you know about my daughter?" she whispered, looking defensive.

Monday pointed at the cleaner's wrist before turning away to start investigating the kitchen's resources. "It was an educated guess from the homemade bracelet which reads 'Mummy' and 'Christie'." She said. Then she retrieved her phone again and began composing a message. "JARVIS, I need the following ingredients to be sourced and delivered to the Tower as soon as possible. I also need an inventory of dietary requirements for the guests. Please send it to all my hardware, I am just going to fetch the large tablet now."

"_And what about the expenses?" _JARVIS asked.

Monday smirked. "Since this is Mr Stark's challenge, I don't see why he can't foot the bill."

Monday was adapting to the AI more quickly than most others, Maggie mused, watching the woman jog to the elevator and disappear to her rooms. "Um… JARVIS?"

"_Yes Miss Brown?" _

"Do you think she'll win the wager?"

"_That… I could not say. I have no information on Miss Monday's cooking skills beyond the official certification." _

"Perhaps it's just human intuition then, but I have a feeling she'll render Stark speechless."

"_If such an event occurs, I shall record it from every possible angle and save it for posterity." _The AI swore. Maggie grinned and went back to work as Monday arrived with her Starkware tablet and a bandana tied around her head to keep her hair back.

"Okay Maggie, you can carry on anywhere but in the kitchen, I'll clean up when I'm done." Monday was yanking a huge amount of equipment from the cupboards and slamming it on the various counters. Her expression was grim. Maggie took the hint and fled with all the dignity she could muster considering Monday was practically humming with contained fury. After all, she wanted to keep her job.

* * *

Tony Stark, billionaire and playboy philanthropist was a secret foodie. Despite his obsession with trying meals he had never heard of before (shawarma being a classic example), there was nothing he liked better than seriously good food. One of the perks of being the child of billionaires meant that he had been trained to expect the finer things in life. Even at college he had eaten like a king.

Therefore he was eager to see exactly what Monday could manage to prepare in only a few hours. He had also invited Pepper, Bruce, Capsicle and Rhodey to join him in the expected gluttony. This also meant that Monday's defeat would be witnessed. He almost started to smile at the thought of catching her rushing about in a complete fluster.

But as they stood in the elevator, ascending to the penthouse, Pepper was shooting him that quietly smug look that spelled an embarrassing situation. Did she know something he didn't?

"Alright Tony," Rhodes said with a sigh. "I can't believe you're dragging me over for dinner to defeat your housekeeper."

"Unofficial babysitter," Rogers murmured.

"Manager of the Tower," Pepper corrected them both sharply.

"Sorry Pepper," they chorused.

"I'll make you say it to Elise, she deserves the apology."

"Elise Monday," Pepper said, managing to refrain from gritting her teeth. "Is the tower's manager and your assistant."

"Oh, you mean the private chef!" Tony smirked at her, watching her eyes blaze. If looks could maim…

"_The penthouse,"_ JARVIS announced, interrupting what might have turned into a semi-serious battle. The doors slid open and they stepped into a miasma of sensation.

Classical music was playing softly over the sound system, the lights had been softened to a comfortable glow, all was peaceful and still as Monday stepped smartly up to them.

"Mr Stark, Miss Potts, sirs," she inclined her head respectfully to them all. She was wearing a plain white shirt and her black slacks with soft black pumps that allowed her to glide with absolute silence across the marble floor. She glided back to the island counter and opened a bottle of champagne, pouring it out into five glasses.

"Wow…" Rogers breathed, impressed as he surveyed the room. A round dining table had been procured and placed near the window for a better view of the cityscape outside. It was laid with the precision of a five star restaurant and candles winked merrily in a small crystal sculpture which doubled as a candelabra for an elegant centrepiece.

Tony peered round, looking for signs of chaos, mess, half-cooked food… nothing.

Monday approached with the flutes of champagne balanced carefully on a silver tray. Although Rogers and Banner attempted to refuse, Monday looked up at them reproachfully. "But sirs, this is a 2004 bottle of Dom Perignon, an extremely rare vintage. I must insist that you try it, if for no other reason than that it is an excellent complement to the canapés."

Reluctantly, they both took a flute and were rewarded with a beaming smile.

"Why did you get eggs? And what on earth is this caviar?" Tony asked, peering at the platter with apparent dismay.

"If I may sir, these are black-headed gulls' eggs with snail caviar and whipped cream," Monday said calmly.

"Snail caviar?" Rhodes exclaimed.

"The sturgeon is in severe decline. Snail caviar has a milder taste and is an ethical alternative, Colonel." Monday replied calmly.

Tony stuffed one into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a long time before chasing it down with a sip of champagne. Then he grinned. "Alright," he said quietly and moved away to allow the others to try. Monday nodded and floated away, impersonal and professional in her duties.

About ten minutes later, Tony summoned Monday and asked for the starting course to be served. "Right away, sir," she murmured.

They sat at the table and Monday appeared almost on cue with their first course. They dined on lobster ravioli with truffle oil, followed by a palette cleanser of champagne sorbet. Then came fillet cuts of Wagyu beef with a 2005 Chateau Pétrus, purple potatoes, saffron seared carrot slices and miniature vegetables. Then for 'pudding' as Monday called it, she produced a wild strawberry mousse and clotted Jersey cream, with wild elderflower sorbet and white cherries and a very rare and extremely fine 1989 vintage of the dessert wine from Chateau d'Yquem.

Tony's taste buds were practically singing hosannas by the time they had retreated to the sofas for after dinner drinks. Conversation had almost completely died during that meal. No one could deny it had been a great success. In fact Monday's cold demeanour and inhuman efficiency reminded him a little of JARVIS, and her cut-glass accent only strengthened this impression.

"How the hell did you get this all together in time?" Tony finally asked her, once their friends had all retired for the night and only he and Pepper remained.

"Charm and resourcefulness, sir," Monday replied promptly, handing him a plate of homemade chocolates, "JARVIS can account for this."

"And she really made all this herself, JARVIS?" Tony asked.

"_Yes sir," _and Tony could detect a hint of admiration in the AI's tone. It rankled slightly.

"Alright then… what was the bill?" He was being as rude as possible, but he really wanted to see if he could elicit some crack in that perfect, impersonal porcelain mask.

Monday didn't blink. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a hand-written receipt.

"Two hundred and twenty dollars?!" Pepper gasped, reading the total over Tony's shoulder. "Some of the ingredients cost almost that much alone!"

Monday tilted her head and looked thoughtful, "I am extremely resourceful," she said again and returned to clearing up the dinner.

* * *

Monday finally went to bed at half past two and awoke at six thirty the following morning. As she brushed her hair, she checked her emails:

Two from Pepper, one thanking her for the dinner and the second providing the necessary updates for Stark's schedule.

One from a DVD rental company which she black-listed with an irritable stab of her finger.

Then she checked her other, personal email account. Nothing important. Then she checked the 'Junk' inbox, making sure that no important ones had been filed there by mistake. And that's when she saw one that was titled: 'Hi.' Curious, she opened it and immediately recognised that this _was_ important. It was written in Dutch and reminded her of a time long ago…

_Hi, _

_I know you told me not to contact you unless it was an emergency. But this is an emergency. _

_Aldert. _

This was serious. She stopped brushing her hair and read it again more carefully. Attached to the message was a picture, she opened it and looked at it closely.

"Bloody hell."

* * *

At exactly the same time, in the Hague, Aldert Marquering paced frantically in his apartment's office. He was worried that she wouldn't reply or would dismiss it. After all, it really wasn't her problem and she might still be on the other side of the world…

His phone rang.

"_Where was that picture taken?" _

He sighed in relief, "Oh I am so relieved you called, S—"

"_No names," _she said._ "Your office won't like to hear you making a social call in the middle of the day. The walls have ears." _

"Right, right," he sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "I took in the Orkneys yesterday while visiting our mutual friend; but he wasn't expecting me, despite it being in the calendar for ages."

"_Hmm… did he find something new during excavation?" _

"Possibly, he didn't want to jump to conclusions."

"_Another unclassified axe head?" _

"I think this is more in the nature of an anomaly—he wasn't very sure, but nevertheless I took a picture. We thought you might have some fresh ideas, old friend."

"_You bet I do," _

"When's the earliest we can meet?"

"_I've just landed a very high-profile job in Manhattan," _she sounded regretful. _"Check with the old London office and let me know." _

"Congratulations, I'll call them and see what I can do."

"_Okay, keep me in the loop. It looks really interesting." _

"Not a problem, I'm glad to have you on board."

"_Take care, Aldert." _

"You too."

"_Always." _She hung up and Aldert sighed, thinking hard. Well, he could always try to call her superiors and ask… there was always a chance. After all, this was serious.

* * *

Monday cursed and stared at the photograph again. Why did she have to be in Manhattan when she clearly needed to be in the Orkneys?! Her superiors were clearly idiots, pre-empting the outcome and getting it spectacularly wrong, as usual.

Should she hand in her notice for 'personal reasons'? A death in the family, perhaps? Or should she fake her own death? The only other option was pulling rank. And that was, quite simply, the very last resort. SHIELD was an agency of the UN, and her organisation was exponentially older and far out-ranked Nicholas Fury's set-up. She felt the old frisson of anticipation ripple down her spine and then the frustration hit her again. She should go to the Orkney Isles anyway and damn the consequences—there was too much at stake to bother with 'correct procedure', and she was certain her career would survive whatever admonishment was handed out to her. Worst case scenario: she'd go freelance. That hadn't even been considered since the Dissolution.

She cursed again.

"_Is something wrong, Miss Monday?" _JARVIS asked politely.

No sense in lying to the machine. "Only some interesting news, JARVIS. Unfortunately, I cannot return to look into it personally."

"_Disappointing, I'm sure." _The AI said.

"Extremely, I am very fond of archaeology."

* * *

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